Scold's Conquest (Worship Series Book 5)

by Marie Hall

  A near unanimous sound of agreement went out before Ian signaled the others to leave. Xavier waited keeping still and silent.

  "So no one believes Xavier wants Io dead, now what?" Ian asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  "Now we finalize how to ensure whoever does cannot accomplish the feat. But we have more of a matter to consider than a marital dispute of extreme portions," Mark said, rubbing at his neck.

  "There is far more discourse in that house than we realized when we were there," Gerald added. "It is simply not possible that every instance was the work of one person."

  The words chilled Xavier who leaned in to better hear the discussion.

  "No, some of the attempts were more opportunity than planning. And certainly those planned were not done so by the same person or persons who chanced on her at the top of the steps or even in a room they could lock her in. There is for certain more than one party behind what has happened," Mark said.

  Xavier never considered the possibility more than one person was behind the trouble. What manner of chaos had built in his home over the last several months? Was he going to have to empty everyone and replace them all to insure his wife's safety and happiness? He would but he rather hoped he'd find those responsible and the matter would be done.

  "We have another matter we must consider here," Mark went on. Before speaking he seemed to take a moment to look around and then stepping closer caused the others to do the same so the circle became smaller. He lowered his voice and Xavier strained to hear. "We must consider Io's birth."

  "No one knows, he's not spoken of it," Ian said.

  "I know, but for years the crown never let Io settle in one place. If that was to ensure she could not be found or at least no one could catch up to her… She has been in Xavier's care now for almost two years. There is no possibility her whereabouts are not known to everyone close to the throne. Anyone, then, who might have been part of the plot to kill her when she was a child could be trying to finish that effort."

  "You think the crown still wants Io dead?" Jon asked, sounding disbelieving.

  "I do not think it was the crown, but someone perhaps thinking to keep the crown on the king's head, keep anyone else from being able to make a claim. We cannot deny why Io was given to Xavier. Her blood gives her a claim, and there are those who prefer another to sit in power. Xavier would stop anyone who tried but I would wager there are some who may not trust him as the king does," Mark explained. "And given this, I have to ask, what danger is Xavier in?"

  "Oh God," Ian groaned.

  "There was no hesitation to kill her mother in the last attempt on her life. How desperate they might be is hard to say," Gerald added.

  "If the assassin came from outside the house, killing Xavier could result in a boon for someone. His lands and wealth would be up for grabs to anyone who might ask for it as payment for Io's death."

  Nausea rose in Xavier throat and he had to swallow several times to keep it down. He hardly feared for his own life. He was capable of defending himself. But he was just a man, mortal, and, if he did fall, his death would leave Io open and vulnerable and his holdings reason enough to end her.

  "So we do what we have always done," Jon stated as he straightened and squared his shoulders, "we protect our lord's back until the enemy is defeated."

  "That we do," Ian said, slapping a hand down on Jon's shoulder and giving him a shake. "That we do."

  "Come let us get back, maybe someone has food ready," Gerald said. Xavier pressed back, waiting as they passed.

  "Do you think you can get more from Io about what happened?" Jon asked Mark as they passed where Xavier stood.

  "I could but I think it better she not speak now. Emotion clouds her account and I must consider what to ask her so she will tell us what we need to know." Mark's concern was impressive.

  "I think a few more times having to interrogate our lady and you would be able to force confessions from the pope," Jon laughed and slapped the other man's back.

  "A few more times and I might manage to get God to actually come speak to me when I ask." Mark chuckled as they passed out of sight.

  Xavier could appreciate the humor they tried for. He didn't like having his wife interrogated but she wasn't the sort who simply spoke to just anyone. More times an enemy to the crown fell because they couldn't hold their tongue. They revealed more than enough to display their weakness and, therefore, brought about their own ends. Io didn't randomly say what she knew. She had no want to boast. Only if she was directly asked did she say anything, unless she was trying to understand something that confused her. Even then her questions were pointed. Mark was superb at what he did in service to Xavier. Getting Io to give up even harmless information was his great challenge from the start because Io forgot nothing and wasn't always able to go directly to the information needed. Pushing her then only frustrated her and that made her stop speaking completely.

  Xavier knew he could have gotten the information from Io before these events put them at odds. She used to enjoy talking with him about all manner of things and she always spoke in detail so Xavier knew what she did as if he'd been with her. Often it was those times when she'd recount her day he found he was most content with his life. Io simply infused joy and excitement into the most mundane aspects of being a landlord. Goats and chickens were interesting when Io told about them. He'd not spent a moment missing the thrill of battle or victory as her husband. He'd not taken a wife before because he was sure he'd miss such things if he was obligated to care for a wife and family. Now he'd be happy to watch his sword sink to the bottom of the lake if he could sit a few more nights with Io before a warm fire and hear her tell him how she talked the soap maker into making her extra soap with her favorite fragrance.

  Xavier sighed. Certainly he was far from having those pleasures and comforts, but he was on the right path to regaining them. And knowing he'd the support of the men and the men had his back in this fight, he was more confident he'd soon be sitting by that fire with Io listening to her tell him how she learned something quite interesting from her tutor. He'd get there, with the help of such loyal and capable friends, he would get there. He headed back to camp. Tomorrow he'd start trying to understand the facts of what his wife endured.

  Chapter Eight

  Io rolled to her side and used one hand to press the furs to her mouth. She didn't want to be heard crying again. With the other hand she pressed the wooden figure to her breast. Another sob rose up. How had this happened? What exactly happened? Anymore she didn't know. She didn't know what to trust, who to trust. All of it was so terribly confusing, so hurtful. Closing her eyes, she willed his words to go silent but again and again they echoed in her mind. "I always think of you, Io, I cannot go half a heartbeat without thinking of you." The events of their last encounter replayed in her mind.

  ***

  When Xavier returned to the camp, Io was waking from a rest she didn't know she needed. He took a seat close to her and handed her a large wine skin. He snorted and shook his head at her before she could try to refuse it.

  "It is cider, Io, we are not too far from a small shire and they had some by chance. I thought you might like it." He tried again to hand it to her but she'd hesitated a bit too long. His expression hardened a little, but only a little. "What? Do you think it poisoned?" He didn't wait for her answer; he tipped it to his lips and poured in a large swallow, making a face as he did. He didn't like cider any more than she liked wine. "There now," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and holding out the skin for her to take.

  She did want it. Her mouth was dry and she was weary of water. Something with taste would be good. But why had he gone to the trouble of fetching this for her? Could he hope she'd let her guard down? He said it wasn't him who tried to end her life. He'd sworn it on his king's life that it wasn't him. Still he'd let it happen. He'd made her think she was safe in his house, among his people with his men. She believed him so completely someone nearly murdered her three�
� no four times. So was this gesture a way to again have her relying on him, depending on him until she was helpless to do for herself? Her head was pounding again with the emotions she couldn't separate from the events.

  "Io?" Xavier shook the skin and she heard the cider slosh inside. With a sigh she reached out and took it. Setting it in her lap and tracing the port that had barely touched his lips with her fingers, she did wonder at the longing she felt. She'd thought someday she'd be past wanting to feel his touch, his lips, his breath on her skin. Maybe though she wouldn't ever be past this wanting and that was the price she needed to pay for accepting what he offered her. Nothing was given without a cost. She'd taken nothing offered from anyone before Xavier because she refused to pay or be in debt. She not only accepted everything Xavier gave her, she'd hoarded it. It was indulgence like she never allowed. But then it was all pulled away, ripped from her hands. Leaving her bloody for the struggle to hold onto it.

  She didn't have it in her to fight again and she'd nothing left to use as payment for what he gave. Was this small thoughtful act his way of luring her into a debt she couldn't pay back? It seemed so long ago he last did anything thoughtful, but he'd done so many things before. Before he'd always been there with a ready will to help her find a lost shoe or tie her laces or just hold her hand if something upsetting occurred. He'd always stood close when she needed him. Then he stepped away and no longer was there when she needed him to be.

  Needing him, that was what hurt so much. She'd lived years not needing anyone and suddenly she was incapable of living without someone. No not someone, him. Just him. The separation hadn't lessened that need. She managed, but not well, and had he not come after her, had he not found her, she knew for certain she'd have died. If not from whatever made her ill, then from the hurt of being gone. She was doomed either way it seemed and the very thought she'd no choice again in this matter curled and festered inside her making her angry and sad all at once. It was the anger then that caused the bitterness in her next exchange.

  "Io, take a drink. Do you want some food, its late in the day? I think a few rabbits were caught." Xavier's words caused the tears she'd held back to drop from her eyes. "Io?" He shifted closer. "Io, what is wrong now?" She tried shaking her head at him hoping he'd do as he did in the days and weeks and months before she'd left and stop pressing her. But this time he was like he was early on, instant. "Io, I cannot fix a problem if I do not know the problem. Tell me why you cry?"

  Maybe it was his tone, or the fact everyone was once again waiting to hear her reply, but whatever it was, Io seized the chance to make her stand, now while she could. Lifting the skin from her lap she dropped it to the ground between them and met his dark eyes wither own. "I care not to grow used to your fleeting thoughtfulness, Lord Brice. I will see to my own needs." Her attempt to stand was hampered by the furs and she'd only risen halfway before Xavier came alive and grabbing her arm, yanked her back down.

  "Fleeting?" he nearly snarled, "my thoughtfulness for you is not fleeting."

  "Yes it is, and it will end again as soon as it is no longer convenient, when it becomes a burden."

  "Io, your care is not a burden. And there is no inconvenience in thinking about that care."

  "It must have become inconvenient at some time for you stop thinking about me at all and ra—"

  "I did not," he snapped. "I have always tho—"

  "You did not, you gave me no consideration. Rather all your thoughts were given to her and—"

  "Her?" She saw the confusion in his eyes and she saw the moment he understood. "Io, stop with this. I do not want that woman and I have never put her before you in any manner."

  Io felt her jaw drop. She almost choked on the laugh. "You put her before me in everything from the moment she arrived."

  "Io, everything I have done I have done with thoughts of what was best for you. I admit I did not always make the right decisions but I did everything while thinking of you and what would serve you." The shift in his tone made her wonder if he was going to give up on this. He sounded a bit defeated. Perhaps he knew it wasn't an argument he could win because he knew what she said was the truth.

  "No," she said, dropping her eyes back to her lap. "No, you stopping thinking about me long ago and you would be better served to go on that way."

  "Io," he sighed, set his hands slightly behind him and leaned back. "Io, I do not know how I can prove this to you. You are always on my mind, Io. Always I am thinking of you. If I could prove it, I wo—" He stopped and sat forward. "No, no, I can prove I think about you. I think about you all the time no matter what I do or who I am with. I can prove it." He stood then pointed a finger at her. "Sit there, do not move." Then he was gone, his long strides carried him away from the fire to where many of the men laid out their bed rolls. Io saw him stop at a pile of bags she assumed were his and she could also see his saddle. His bedding was what she was sitting on so that was why his things were still packed.

  She continued to watch as he dug through first one pack and then another. He paused and she watched him bow his head. Maybe he couldn't find any proof. Maybe there wasn't any, but then his head snapped up and he crossed the camp to a second larger pile of bags taken off the pack horses. He dug through finally coming up with one and again he began searching the bag.

  "Io," Mark said from behind her as she continued to watch Xavier. "Whatever that man has to say, you will hear him out. Do you understand?"

  Xavier must have found what he was looking for because Io recognized the way his posture changed as it did when he'd gained some victory. He dropped the pack into the pile and turning, headed straight back towards her.

  "Io, do you understand? Hear him out," Mark said as he retreated.

  Io nodded unable to answer for the lump in her throat. She couldn't tell what he carried. But the determination on his face and the way he moved with such purpose, Io did wonder if it wasn't a paddle or some other implement he could use on her arse. He didn't let up in his stride until the last step and, as leaves swirled up around his feet, he dropped down to his knees before her. In his hands he held something oddly shaped and wrapped in several layers of fur. He held onto it now and waited. Io couldn't resist; she lifted her eyes up to his again and she knew right then whatever he was about to say, to show her, it was going to change her life again.

  "Io," he started. "I am going to tell you how I have always thought of you. I only have with me enough proof for one time but I command you listen to all I have to say." She looked quickly to what was in his hands then back to his face. "I will show you what I have after you have heard me."

  "Very well," she agreed, not knowing what other choice she had.

  "Good," Xavier said with a firm nod. But then for a while he was silent. She was about to tell him to get on with it when he cleared his throat and started. "I am sure I will not speak of every instance you felt most I failed to give you consideration, nor will I speak of the moments most profound to you. I do not have your gift of memory, but I will do my best." Again he went silent for a while, then chuckled nervously, "I do not really know where to start so I am going to start with one that maybe truly began our troubles. That spring gathering. The one I wrongly made you miss."

  Io felt tears filling her eyes so she blinked hard to stay them. "You took her, not me. You promised me, but took her."

  "I did," he said and dropped his head. "I wronged you greatly that day and—"

  "You enjoyed it," Io accused.

  "Io," he started then stopped and, with a sigh, shook his head. "Io, I will not tell you lies. I did enjoy the gathering. I had not been to something so basic and relaxed in a great while. The people, our people, put on a remarkable showing. But…" He gave her a hard look when she opened her mouth to say something. She closed her mouth with an audible pop. "I enjoyed the day, but every time I found myself enjoying something particularly much I also found myself looking for you. I had to purposefully remind myself you were not there, and that reminder dim
inished the enjoyment greatly."

  "Lady Sabrina was there." Io brushed at the tears she couldn't hold back and shifted to sit more comfortably.

  He chuckled a bit again. "Yes, she was. And she was exactly as I expect a lady to be." Io bristled but remained quiet. At least he was admitting what she'd accused him of. He wanted a lady, not her. "She was as any lady is expected to be. Polite, and soft spoken, gentle in her movements, graceful." He stopped then and looked directly at her. "And she was completely and totally disingenuous and insincere. She was a fake, Io. She might have laughed at some amusing anecdote told by some farmer but she did not care, she did not listen I would wager. I watched her. I listened to what she said to those around her and the entire time I thought Io would be able to help that woman with the name she cannot recall, or Io would know exactly where in the woods that hunter was speaking of. Of course Sabrina was the perfect lady, she was bred to be that. Just like hundreds of other women have been bred to be. All the same, there's nothing unique or special about them in the least. And do you know what my last thought was that night? It was about how grateful I was she was not my wife because I wager in a few years, given some general circumstance, Sabrina Blake would become my mother. She would become a cold, bitter, distant woman who cared only for herself and appearances. And I thought at least with you as my wife, I will never have to suffer waking up next to that."

  Io couldn't find any words. Had he really thought those things? He'd not said such to her. Oh, but God help her, she'd not given him a chance. And when they did next speak, she'd been told that there was a plan in place to set her aside.

  He lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead. Io prepared to receive whatever he had in the package but he didn't hand it over to her. Instead he started again. "I think the next moment that stands out so clearly was when I told you to show me any correspondence before it was sent. I did question how your letter might have come into Charlotte's possession an—"